


87.3's Romance Hour

by mintboy (orphan_account)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Humanstuck, M/M, One Shot, Radio
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-15
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-07-12 18:13:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16000649
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/mintboy
Summary: Dave suddenly becomes invested in romance novels after becoming a religious listener and call-in guest of Karkat's radio segment, "Romance Hour". Of course, it's love-at-first-listen.For my boyfriend. Love you!





	87.3's Romance Hour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KittyMotor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyMotor/gifts).



In all honesty, Dave had never really cared too much for romance as a genre. It was arguably one of the most popular genres in all of media, though, and he guessed for that reason it had a fair amount of merit. Not that he was a good critic, or a critic at all – he didn’t consume much media as it was, with the exception of media he consumed for the sake of irony. And that, of course, was an entirely different story.

But, the fact that he wasn’t entirely interested in the topic of romantic media wasn’t the point in his debacle. And, the reason that he had acquired an entire bookshelf of harlequins and a newly-Christened Netflix account where nearly every recommendation had some cheesy title and a mismatched couple on the cover wasn’t because he had suddenly developed a serious interest in it, either. No, it was because he had taken a bit of a … fancy to someone.

Now, any normal person would say, ‘oh, so clearly this is a friend of yours who likes romance movies? Or, maybe, you’re using them to figure out a cheesy way to ask them out?’ Oh, no. It was a lot worse than that.

Dave listened to the radio quite often. And on one of Houston’s less frequented indie stations, there was a block of time between ten and eleven at night where there was a romance media segment. Dave had never paid too much attention to it; that time wasn’t exactly peak radio-time, given it wasn’t exactly when people were commuting – and not many people listen to radio outside of their car, anymore. Then, he actually gave it a listen, one night … perhaps out of boredom, perhaps for the credit to make a remark about ironically having listened to it. Either way, he wasn’t expecting for it to take a turn – which ultimately led to him tuning in every Tuesday and Thursday night to listen in on the latest scoop in romantics.

This turn had to do with the host. In all honesty, Dave still didn’t have much of an interest in the books or movies. But Karkat – the man, the voice behind the segment – was a whole different ballgame. Dave had never been one to believe in love at first sight, let alone love-at-first-listen, but there he was. There was just something about him. More than just the sound of his voice, though Dave wasn’t complaining.

Dave had always been a big fan of music. Hence, his listening to the indie station in the first place. Karkat’s voice was something like music. It was captivating, melodic. It made the skin on his face buzz and his heart swell in his chest, like when he’d listen to a really good song for the first time in a while. It had a sort of rough tone to it, that made it so incredibly endearing. He wouldn’t lie; sometimes he just couldn’t focus on the words being said, just so drawn in by every sound coming from the broadcaster’s mouth. And his laugh – god, his laugh. A symphony.

But, that was just his voice – there was also his wit, and his passion for the subject – he could be ranting about lettuce for all Dave cared and he’d listen; and not just because he loved his voice. He just had a way of delivering the topic that made it ten times more interesting than it could ever actually be. That was definitely a disc-jockey thing, but nonetheless – there was something different about him. Something captivating. He was intelligent, clearly; and just genuinely loved what he was talking about.

Love can be a very strong word, especially to use when speaking about someone you’ve never met, but Dave was about ninety-seven-point-six percent sure he was in love with Karkat Vantas, the disc-jockey behind ‘87.3’s Romance Hour’.

God help him.

There was only on issue – they’d never met. In fact, it was more of a celebrity-crush kind of situation, given that Karkat had no idea how Dave was at all. But, that was something that Dave took into his own hands. At the thirty-minute-mark of Romance Hour, Karkat started accepting calls. He did this for a fifteen-minute period, maximum. Usually, the calls were kind of sparse; they lasted for maybe a minute each, and there were about five at most. That changed when Dave began to call – and ultimately was what led to him learning of the fifteen-minute limit on the portion of Karkat’s segment.

That was when Dave started reading the books, watching the movies; he’d eat up the content like candy, phoning in twice a week to tell Karkat his thoughts on the recommendations and how he was happy that the DJ had turned him onto the genre, despite him still not being totally invested. After all, he didn’t want to _lie_ – though, the stuff was suddenly getting a lot more interesting when he had someone to talk to about his theories and shit like that. He confessed often he just really liked the show, even if romance wasn’t his thing, which always made Karkat laugh. After all, it was kind of odd for someone to tune in on something they weren’t interested in, and Dave got that. It was just nice to hear his laugh.

Months passed, and Dave was a religious caller. Karkat knew him by name, and even other recurring viewers knew who he was when he came on the air via phone-call. Dave was getting antsy, though; it was nice to talk to Karkat, to hear his voice – but he wanted to take him out to dinner or something. It was infuriating to be so head-over-heels for someone without even having met them.

So, he decided to take things into his own hands. It was 10:28pm, and it had been exactly six months since he’d started calling into the show. Karkat was still finishing up talking about a new novel to hit the shelves, and Dave was in bed beside his radio, phone in hand. He wrung his hands together, adjusting himself to prop his head on his hand. He waited patiently for the two minutes to pass.

“Alright, the time is now 10:30, and the lines are open,” Karkat announced, and Dave hit the call button. It rang twice before Karkat picked up, and Dave took a deep breath.

“Hello, welcome to 87.3’s Romance Hour, this is Karkat,” the greeting echoed through both the phone and the radio, and Dave felt his throat thicken a little.

“Hey, uh, it’s Dave.”

“Oh, hi, Dave,” Karkat’s voice relaxed a little, growing a little less to-please-the-crowd, “Did you read the latest Dani Collins?”

“Yeah, but –” he cut himself off with a cough, “I wanted to ask you something, actually – unrelated.”

“What?” Karkat scoffed a little. His voice rang with slight annoyance and disappointment.

“Well, it’s just that I’ve been listening to you for a while, and I’ve been calling in a lot, and I just think you’re really cool.”

“…Okay?”

“And, I,” Dave stopped, taking a deep breath. Fuck. This was it. In the seconds of quiet, Karkat spoke again to break it – it was his job, after all.

“Look, as much as I love hearing you say that you love the segment, if we’ve got other callers I can’t just –”

“No, no, wait,” Dave interrupted, “I wanted to ask you out. I wanted to know if you wanted to go out with me.”

There was a moment of static. The radio went silent. Dave twisted his fingers in his sheets. Then, the call dropped, and he felt his heart fall with it. He put down his phone, taking a shaky breath and redirecting his attention the radio. It was 10:35pm. Music started to play – Mitski. The segment had just ended abruptly and dropped.

Dave shoved his head into his hands. Fuck. He should’ve known that was a shitty idea. They hadn’t even met. Karkat had no idea what he looked like, even, or anything about him – other than that he had interest in the show.

Then, Corey Hart’s “Sunglasses at Night” started blasting over the radio, startling Dave so much he almost fell off the bed. He scrambled for his phone. It was a number he didn’t recognize. He sighed, picking it up to fuck with whatever telemarketer had decided to bug him. At least it would pass the time.

“Dave?”

Dave’s heart just about stopped. That was Karkat’s voice.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he said, his voice suddenly feeling disconnected from the rest of him. There was no way this was actually happening.

“Oh, thank God. I thought this was probably your number,” Karkat replied, “I can’t believe you had the fucking audacity to ask me out on air!”

“Sorry…?”

“Don’t apologize, shitweasel.”

“So, is that a yes?” Dave sat up on his bed, running a hand through his hair.

“No, I called you to tell you I’m taking out a restraining order. _Yes_ , it’s a yes. God, I didn’t think you were an idiot as well as a douche.”

“Cool,” Dave put Karkat on speaker, opening the calendar on his phone. It was empty; he didn’t use it, or _yet_ anyway, “wanna get Thai tomorrow night?”

There was a shifting of pages on the other end.

“It’s a date.”

 

 

 


End file.
